


The Visitor

by AndallitsGlory



Category: DCU (Comics), Midnighter (Comics), Midnighter and Apollo (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, DC Comics Rebirth, DC comics - Freeform, Depression, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 00:25:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13019370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndallitsGlory/pseuds/AndallitsGlory
Summary: Opal City is falling apart and so is Apollo's life. Depressed after his death, he has quit the superhero lifestyle. It's only when Midnighter brings someone home does Apollo gain a new perspective.





	The Visitor

**Author's Note:**

> Post-Midnighter and Apollo. What was inspired by a friend's Facebook post somehow turned into a meditation on depression. I have a lot of friends who are going through tough times lately, which makes the cheeriness of the holiday season, especially this year, an interesting contrast. Apollo isn't the most likely superhero to suffer from depression, but I feel there's a loss when it comes to superhero comics' tendencies to blow over traumas like they'd never happened. Plus, I find writing him therapeutic. 
> 
> I didn't bother rereading Midnighter and Apollo before writing this and think there were even some details I just flatly ignored. Also, nobody calls Midnighter "The Midnighter" in the DCU, but couldn't pass up the opportunity to go back to those sweet, sweet roots.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

It had been over a year since they got back together and sometimes, it still seemed like there were two versions of Midnighter—Midnighter before their break-up and Midnighter after. Apollo didn’t always know what to expect from the newer one.

But he could still tell his boyfriend’s moods from the smallest things, such as the abrupt squeal of the front door’s hinges. He braced for the unmistakable slam of the doorknob into the wall, keeping his hands deep in the raw chicken he was in the process of breading. To his surprise, it never came and he wondered if Midnighter had finally learned to not demonstrate his rages—as few and far between as they were—on Apollo’s apartment.

The reverberation of a second set of feet, hesitant and heavy, told him something else. Something curious. Midnighter had brought home a stranger. Apollo knew this because Tony would have announced himself in that boisterous, heartfelt voice and Marina did not step with shyness. Was it a more distant friend then? For someone who used to insist on working solo, Midnighter collected acquaintances like trading cards nowadays. Just last week, he had floated the idea to Apollo that they invite some of his out-of-town friends who he had met at clubs over to visit. 

“You wouldn’t believe. You wouldn’t fucking believe,” Midnighter said, storming into the kitchen. Apollo was thrilled to see he had taken his boots off—finally, he had drilled that into Midnighter’s head too.

Apollo didn’t get to ask what he wouldn’t believe because then the second set of feet, wearing holed sneakers that revealed blackened toes, stepped into the room. Apollo gawked—something he would be ashamed of later—with slime-covered hands held up to his chest. 

At first, he didn’t know what to make of the ragged scene in front of him. Midnighter’s guest was dressed in an filthy, frayed coat and torn slacks. He had a beard grown down to his chest that was the color of ash, akin to the shade of Apollo’s journal pages after he had torn them out and burnt them. A begrimed duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a rolling suitcase with all the rubber on the wheels worn off accompanied, filled with all of the visitor’s earthly possessions. He had clearly lived outside for some time.

The visitor stared at Apollo with hardened green eyes, standing like he was readying to be punched. 

He studied Apollo as Apollo studied him. Then he said in a grated voice: “I know you.”

Behind Apollo, Midnighter was ranting. He had seen many embodiments of evil, but arresting a homeless person for stealing a loaf of bread from a holiday market stand was a new one. Maybe they should get the mayor of the city a gift, like a punch in the face. He had a word or two for someone who had seen this crisis while coming into office and then let it get even further out of hand. Yeah, a punch or two might do it. That’s right. Get the bastards who did the arresting a few gifts too. Happy fucking holidays to all of them. 

The man knew Apollo, but Apollo didn’t know the man. 

Apollo looked down at the bowl of chicken, Panko crumbs scattered around the countertop. He wasn’t eating tonight.

***

Midnighter was still on his tirade by the time Joe finished his shower, but had at least slowed down some. Most of Midnighter’s friends, strangely, thought him to be quite calm and measured when he wasn’t smartassing them. They didn’t know that he could get hyped up about one issue and then talk your ear off about it for a full day before finally settling down again. These issues mostly involved opponents he couldn’t physically fight, such as food desert-related starvation in middle America, child armies in Africa, or the certain backlash that would occur if he assassinated the current president. 

Now it was, did you know that the homeless rate has tripled since the mayor has taken office? Did you know that the cities’ shelters could only house about 140,000 when the homelessness rate was now around 150,000? And did you know the state of those shelters, which often exposed its visitors to theft and violence?

He definitely did not know any of these facts a half hour ago and Apollo seriously considered unplugging the wifi. But not before making a note that he should really use his next volunteer dates at a soup kitchen.

Midnighter had given Joe a razor to shave his beard. When Joe stepped into the kitchen, it was now clear that he was much younger than Apollo had originally thought. Late 30s instead of late 40s. His hair, which came down past his earlobes, still shined with silver stress. He and Midnighter met at around the same height so Midnighter had given him a set of clothes too. They should have almost fit, but instead they hung off him like a child wearing a secondhand wardrobe they were yet to grow into. He looked only even thinner for it. 

Joe put his hands in his pockets and his arms moved like knotty branches, his severely chapped lips whitening as he chewed on them. He leaned back as he gazed at Apollo, sometimes grimacing. Apollo wondered how many people had said harsh words to him while passing by on the sidewalk, how many of them had thrown disgusted stares, or even worse, treated him like a ghost and refused to glance over at all. You had to create a thick mental barrier to survive through that, that’s for sure. 

“He can have my dinner,” Midnighter called from the living-room.

“I suppose the two of us will just have wine tonight,” Apollo agreed.

He fixed Joe’s plate, heaping it with breaded chicken and garlic mashed potatoes and kale until the man couldn’t touch it without some food falling out. Joe took his seat, shifty-eyed and slumping. He began to peek around the kitchen as if he didn’t get a good look before. Midnighter and Apollo tried not to watch him as they swirled their wine, but the apartment prickled with awkwardness, born of the dead silence. 

Finally, Joe turned to them. “You’re not gonna eat?”

“We don’t have to,” Midnighter said, and catching Joe’s look immediately clarified. “Literally.”

“I can make ourselves something real quick if this is too weird,” Apollo suggested.

Joe shrugged. “Do what you want.” and started to dig in. He seemed surprised after the first tentative bite and then, after an approving glance at Apollo, went all in on the plate. He made a lot of noise chewing and smacking his lips and humming with relief and awe. Apollo looked down proudly at his wine. 

The plate was empty in minutes, every bit of potatoes scooped, every bit of Panko consumed. Joe burped in appreciation.

“Need more?” Apollo asked. 

“Not right now,” Joe said, just as Midnighter’s God Garden comm link went off. 

“I have to take this,” Midnighter said as way of apology. He jumped up from his chair, pecked Apollo on the cheek on his way out of the room, and called behind him, “Be back soon as I can!” 

Apollo was tempted to go after him. He really was. But in the end, he picked up Joe’s plate and went to wash it off instead. As he stood at the sink, scrubbing at the porcelain, the visitor finally piped up, “You haven’t been around in some time, yeah?”

Apollo froze. As soon as Joe walked through the door he had suspected this line of interrogation would come. If Apollo were to walk out to the balcony right now, he could see the holiday market where Midnighter must have picked Joe up. The amount of shoppers had diminished in comparison to prior years.

“What do you mean?” he asked and he didn’t even know why he was trying to dodge the subject. Of course he was recognizable. How many people had whipped out their smartphones and snapped photos of him when he defended the city against some crime or another? Hell, how many people stood around taking photos of his corpse, cradled by Midnighter, after he had been killed by Mawzir?

“I didn’t know superheroes could quit.” Joe snorted. 

Apollo considered not answering that. Maybe walk into the other room instead, balance his journal on one knee, pour out the nervous vibration he was starting to feel right in his gut. He could be rude. Ignore the guest until Midnighter came back. He didn’t owe Joe anything. 

“Superheroes can take breaks,” he said.

“Yeah?” Joe asked. “And how long has your break been?”

Apollo's hands shook from effort to not crack the plate with his grip, and he set it aside to dry. What separated heroes from others was not just the pull to do good, but the absolute inability to ignore the bad. For nine months, Apollo had ignored the bad.  
His super strength allowed him to lift a limitless amount of physical weight, but shortly after dying and coming back to life, a different kind of weight sunk him. An exhaustion had spread throughout his bones, as deep as cancer.

A single threat in Opal City would sap him of all his energy and leave him lying in bed for days afterward. Worse than that was the knowledge that it would happen again because when you were a superhero, the job never stopped. The fights just kept coming and coming and coming. 

So one day, another enemy came and he just… didn’t go. Midnighter went alone, puzzled by Apollo, but thrilled for the fight. Apollo was fortunate to have him as someone who didn’t only not feel the exhaustion, but was downright rejuvenated by doing battle. Midnighter preserved the city when Apollo couldn’t because Midnighter loved his job.

Apollo had once too.

“You’re an icon,” Joe was saying. “Even when you died, they had your face plastered everywhere on the news.”

“Great,” said Apollo, nearly mumbling the word.  He didn’t like to think about his death, although it creeped into his thoughts at least once per hour, every day. He couldn’t help but think of the souls in hell he had tried to save, falling off his body one-by-one. 

“What was it like?” Joe asked. “Peaceful?”

“No,” Apollo regretted snapping because he could hear the hopefulness in Joe’s voice, but God, he had been asked that question a million times since coming back and he was so sick of evading it or just flat out lying, “I went to hell. And a demon had a lot of fun specifically torturing me.”

“Oh.”

Apollo pressed his fingers into his eyes and sighed. Over in his chair, Joe looked as if he was trying to make himself look very small.

“I’m sorry. I, I need a moment.”

He took his time, relishing that moment in his and Midnighter’s bedroom. He flipped on the TV for some company and then flipped it off again when the news, the journalists chattering with excitement, showed Midnighter swinging at some starfish-looking monster with his baton. He went out onto the balcony and stared out at the cityscape even though he knew he shouldn’t. 

He could see where the battle must be, far in the distance, marked by a pulsing reddish orb of light. Much closer than that in a neighboring apartment building, he found a scene of young parents feeding their toddler, which sat like a little messy blob in its high chair. The lights flickered around them, including the stream of red and green Christmas lights that lined the window. Like many times before, this battle might incite a power outage. The buildings would plunge into darkness like bombed ships into the sea. 

Apollo hoped not because he needed the lights to fool himself that Opal City remained standing strong. Past his game of pretend, however, families were vacating, terrified to raise their children in an area that had become one giant bullseye. The government scrambled to get the economy in order, small businesses shuttering faster than anyone can keep up, either because of destruction or because of the decreasing workforce. Wreckage from previous fights remained in the streets for weeks, scarring a once beautiful, bustling landscape. People who still had homes stayed inside at night.

And then there were the people, like Joe, left in the cold. 

Joe, who jumped when Apollo re-entered the living space, interrupted from scrutinizing Apollo’s bookshelves. Apollo waved a little, knowing it looked as awkward as it felt. It didn’t soften the hunch in Joe’s shoulders.

“You can make yourself comfortable,” Apollo said, and put the spare pillow and blanket he had grabbed from the closet onto the couch. “Do you need more food?”

Joe shook his head.

“Alrighty,” said Apollo, trying not to be too put off. Wouldn’t anyone be quiet and nervous after living outside for who knows how long? “Let me know if you need anything.”

He went to go make himself busy in the kitchen, but Joe stopped him. 

“You’re not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?” Apollo asked, not sure if he really wanted to hear the answer.

Joe made a wet sound with his lips. “They think The Midnighter’s crazy. Totally shitballs crazy. But you, they thought that you were cheerful and kind. The opposite.” 

Apollo lifted an eyebrow in interest. He knew little of what the public thought of them, never mind that it had assumed him and Midnighter opposites. They were different, true, in a lot of ways, but that opinion didn’t account for their similarities. Apollo wasn’t raised by his alien experimenters nor did he live out in the streets for a few years, but he and Midnighter held the same values and the same drive. Or… had.

What Joe said next made him wish he hadn’t let himself engage in conversation. “I worked down by Hitch Street. Do you remember what happened there?”

Apollo did. 

Oh yes, of course he did. 

He had walked down that street relatively recently, forced himself to in order to try to see if there was anything different about it. Anything special that made it the last straw that toppled him into the exhaustion. 

Debris still lay spilled across the street, nine months later. A few skeletons of apartment and commercial buildings poked out among the ruins, like jagged teeth in a rotting mouth. The spot in the street where the aliens’ ship had landed was still marked by a giant hole, an oozing ulcer in Opal City’s gut. All remaining residents had evacuated the area, sometimes moving to other neighborhoods, but more often departing the city as a whole.

An increasing number of streets all around the city were starting to look the same.

“I owned a shoe shop there,” Joe said, scowling and looking straight into Apollo’s eyes. “The aliens shot my customers dead with their laser things. Then when you crashed into the ship, it all came down. That was everything I’d ever owned, all gone.”

One story out of hundreds. Apollo had heard others on the news and in passing sometimes when he used to wander throughout the town. People would thank him for saving the city, their lives, making them feel secure. This was the first time someone stood accusing in front of him.

“I’m sorry.”

Joe waved his hand around the room, sardonic. “Wish I had a place as nice as this. You’re lucky it’s still standing. Very lucky.”

 

***

Midnighter came back in the middle of the night, giddy like the people who used to enjoy happy hour downtown on Friday evenings. Apollo hadn’t waited up for him, but he found himself oddly clearheaded as he sat up in bed to watch his boyfriend strip on the other side of the room. Other than a few scratches, Midnighter seemed unscathed. An easy fight, then.

“Feel better?” Apollo asked.

Midnighter crawled across the bed, grinning. He leaned over Apollo, so close that his breath tickled the latter’s nose. They sat like this for an extended moment, almost nuzzling, but not quite before Midnighter closed the gap. He picked Apollo apart with his lips, all of their muscles untwining. They began to meld together as if ironwork by the same smelter, as if two trunks from the same tree. 

Midnighter’s arousal seeped into Apollo, filling up his lungs. Apollo’s center of being shifted to the hardness pressed against his hip, Midnighter rubbing slightly up and down. Apollo cupped it gently and Midnighter’s low moans trilled up his spine, like the first notes of a favorite song. Apollo trailed his fingers up the shaft, his eyes set on his boyfriend’s crumpling features. 

He pushed Midnighter onto his back and pressed on top of him, wrapping his full hand around Midnighter’s erection now. A newly forming moan cut off into a hiss as he pumped, and Midnighter roughly grabbed Apollo by the roots of the hair and squeezed. 

“Take off your clothes.” 

It was a demand, not a request, but Apollo still shook his head. He kissed the tuft of hair on Midnighter’s chest and murmured into it, “Not tonight,” before sliding his tongue obscenely across the same patch. It wasn’t the sexiest feeling in the world on his end, but it got the point across and Midnighter didn’t try to fight him on it as he kissed and nibbled his way downward. 

He teased at first. He was always a tease. He caressed Midnighter from tip to base with his lips, without kissing. The thrum of Midnighter’s anticipation went straight to his groin, although he refused to entertain it. He just wanted his boyfriend’s smell to pervade him; to cover his scent so that no one could find him. He’d become an extension of this powerful man, and through that loss of individuality gain invincibility. 

He licked long and lewd down the shaft and Midnighter accidentally bucked, shocked by the first stroke of tongue. Apollo ignored it, kissing all around before coming to suck at the tip. By this point Midnighter had let go of his scalp, and now he pushed Apollo’s head down with both hands, jaw jerking and eyes squinting madly. A fine sheen of sweat had formed on his skin and at a few points began to collect and trickle as Apollo pressed his tongue into the secret spot under the dick’s base, while massaging the balls. 

In his attempts to respect the guest in the other room, Midnighter had kept his noisemaking to a minimum. Now he whined as Apollo began to swallow him down—something that Apollo had only heard once before. Apollo chuckled at this effect, reaching a hand up to rub at Midnighter’s stomach then put some pressure on a very important spot on his boyfriend’s hip. Midnighter barely contained himself from bucking again, something that Apollo was grateful for as he finally swallowed the rest of him. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Apollo guided Midnighter’s dick into fucking his throat. The whining continued, Midnighter throwing a bulky arm across his face to stop himself from watching. If he did, Apollo could tell from the tension in his thighs, he’d come right now. And neither wanted this to stop. 

But it had to some time. After not long enough, Midnighter’s thighs clenched, his stomach sucked in, his toes curled. And then, with a loud sigh to replace his usual yell, he came down Apollo’s throat. 

Apollo pulled away, quickly closing his swollen lips and bring his hand up to catch any drop that might fall. Below him, Midnighter heaved, now soaked with sweat. His eyes, once alive from fighting, now flickered repeatedly. Apollo, doting, dragged him into position onto the bed so that they could fall asleep.

Midnighter’s Adam’s Apple bobbed and he found his voice. “Is that all?”

Apollo laughed at him, running his thumb down his boyfriend’s cheek. “You’re still not satisfied?”

“No, I’m not,” Midnighter said. “You know that it’s a part of my pride that I’m able to get you off.” 

Apollo wasn’t usually one to pull away from a discussion, but they had just had this one last week. Simply put, he lately hadn’t felt up for sex. Like tonight, he still felt aroused at times—who wouldn’t get aroused from sliding up against Midnighter’s naked body?—but he recoiled from rather than encouraged it. Whenever Midnighter made a move, a psychic layer of dirt sprung up, tampering with any possibility of enjoying sex.

He rolled away from Midnighter, facing the window. The shades were drawn so that he couldn’t look out and see the miserable cityscape. 

“Apollo," Midnighter said. He sighed. “Sometimes… I don’t know what to do. There’s like a Before and After with you. And I understand, but…”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Apollo said, and it came out more terse than he had meant. He tried to follow it up with something softer. “Other than just be here. You’re the last solace I have.”

It was the wrong thing to say, according to the silence that responded to him. No man could bear that much responsibility, not even Midnighter. That didn’t kill the truth of it; the world, although of course so much better than hell, hurt too much as if Neron had flayed him. Coming back to life had left him in a constant sway, unable to find balance. He couldn’t get a grip on anything that had kept him upright Before other than his boyfriend.

For now, though, Midnighter didn’t mention that Apollo’s hold might tug him underwater. He only leaned over, kissed Apollo's head, and then spooned him without comment. Apollo's eyes fluttered shut. He did not deserve Midnighter's compassion. What he deserved was ire. At best, disappointment.

 

***

Midnighter’s comm link went off again as they were in the middle of breakfast the next morning. Apollo stood at the stovetop making his own eggs while Joe ate his turkey bacon with gusto at the table. 

“And that’s why breakfast is so important,” Midnighter said to Joe, talking around his half-chewed sausage. He blew Apollo a kiss with two fingers and opened a Door. “Bye, love you.”

Joe had an opinion on that. He seemed to have an opinion on everything. “You know, you’re too good to spend your life sitting around and waiting for that man to come back.”

Apollo rolled his eyes just as the toaster went off, popping up his english muffin. He buttered it before shoveling the eggs between the pieces, adding an extra dash of pepper to the top. 

“Already ignoring me, yeah?”

“My life is plenty fulfilled without superheroics, I’ll have you know,” Apollo said, keeping his eyes on his breakfast. He opted to keep a good distance between himself and the other man, turning around and leaning on the countertop as he ate his food. 

“You keep telling yourself that,” Joe said, wiping his face with his hand. Apollo sighed, grabbed a napkin, and handed it to him before retreating back to his original spot. “Anyway, don’t worry about me none. I should be out of your pretty white hair this afternoon.”

“Why in the world would you do that? You’re perfectly welcome here until you get back on your feet.”

Joe stared at him, wide-eyed. “That could take months.”

Apollo shrugged. 

Some embarrassed relief leaked out from behind Joe’s gruff exterior. He scratched his scruffy chin—he looked surprised every time he did that, clearly still expecting his beard to be there—and pushed the remainder of his food around his plate. “I haven’t been the most thankful of guests.”

“Eat the rest of your eggs. You’re still starving.”

Laughter. Joe used his fork as if he was stabbing someone. “Well, don’t mind if I do, Mother Hen.”

“Cluck cluck,” Apollo said, amused.

***

The mall looked and sounded too much like the mall in Dawn of the Dead. 

They had come early enough that the teenagers who hung around weren’t out of school yet. But also, few from the city’s other demographics strolled along the same corridors as Apollo and Joe. They passed several Going Out of Business Sale signs and workers in the food court openly texted on their smartphones, chins perched on their hands and eyes heavy-lidded. Christmas music attempted to fill the gap, falling short of its goal to create holiday cheer. Instead, it conceived some sort of cruel irony that hung like the wreaths in several decorated stores.

“Sweaters, t-shirts, socks, boxers,” Apollo ticked off the list of things they had picked up. “What else do we need? Jeans. We need jeans for you.”

“Are you going to pick out some fancy-pancy jeans with the holes in them?” Joe asked. 

“Of course not!”

“Good because the streets have made enough holes in me. I never want to see those stupid jeans again.” 

They entered another department store and promptly ran into racks of jeans, fashionably and precariously designed with patches and worn places. Apollo laughed at Joe’s expression in a way that he hadn’t laughed in too long. With Joe grumbling, they set to work on picking through the hated kinds of jeans in order to find a pair that Joe was comfortable with.

“So,” Joe said after a lengthy silence between them, “how about that Superman fella?”

“What about him?” 

“You know. You. Him. The sun thing, the flying thing, the super strength thing.”

“I’ve never met him,” Apollo said, picking out a pair of dark blue jeans. They looked a little frayed at the end of the legs, but maybe Joe would find them acceptable. “Seems like a nice enough guy, though.”

“D’ya think you could take him in a fight?”

“What? Why would I fight him? I just said he seems nice!”

“But he’s gone evil once or twice, yeah? They say he’s got this crypt weakness or whatchamacallit. Makes him go weird.”

“That’s always been out of my territory. Besides, he got over it. I think it’s really admirable that he faces even more risk than I do and still gets himself out there all the time.” Apollo showed off the jeans to Joe, who nodded with approval. Thank God. “People mistake Midnighter for Batman all the time, but they soon figure out that Midnighter’s not just going to throw you into an asylum and call it a day. We believe in ending people who hurt others when we see it. Permanently.”

Joe shuddered. Apollo had forgotten for a moment that most humans didn’t like it when you talked like that.

He meant to glide over the moment, handing the jeans off to Joe to try on, when the entire mall rumbled. Screams pierced the air and Apollo groaned. 

“Uh,” Joe said, face stretched with terror, “w-where did M say he was going again?”

Apollo had had the same thought, turning on his comm link. He brought it close to his mouth to reach out to Midnighter, but then hesitated as he looked at Joe’s face once more. Was he really going to run to his boyfriend to fix the problem when it would be faster if he just did it himself? People could get hurt in the meantime.

“Stay here,” he told Joe. Taking a deep breath and wondering if he had enough solar charge from yesterday, he darted out of the department store and straight into a black cloud.

Crying silhouettes crawled around on the floor, attempting in vain to feel their way out. One grabbed his ankle and then shrieked as if he had initiated the contact. Even the halo that always emitted from him didn’t penetrate the darkness, and his heat vision failed too. He shook off the sobbing woman, lifting into the air and jetting up toward the ceiling. The skylights smashed from the impact, shards tearing his shirt. 

He continued going until he hit a solid barrier. Feeling his way around it, he deducted that it acted as a container to the gaseous substance surrounding the mall. He pulled his arm back far as it would go and shot it out again, delivering a rusty and therefore fairly standard punch. 

The barrier did not give.

Again then. Concentrating solar energy into his arm and gathering a guttural scream in his throat, he released another punch. This one, upon contact, made a crackling noise and the sunshine that burst from his knuckles illuminated enough that for a second he could see the sides of his nose. 

Progress.

But in a typical battle, progress was never made without pushback and this one was no exception. The screams he had left behind found new life, increasing in their desperation. His instincts prickled, and he knew that something new had come onto the field. He snapped around and sped off back to the mall from whence he came…

…Landing straight on top of something solidifying. Whatever it was, it gave out an unearthly noise and struck back, sending him careening away. He crashed into more glass—probably a storefront—which further reduced his shirt into shreds. “Damnit,” he said, voice low as he wondered if the creature had ears. 

He got to his feet and only managed a couple of steps before that noise—it sounded like a combination of a rattlesnake’s tail and the crushing of steel beams—blasted what must have been inches from his face. The Creature then hit him with such force that his ear rang, and he collided with a rack of clothing. He rebounded almost immediately, grabbing the rack and flinging it as hard as he could in the Creature’s direction. That noise again, this time sounding pained. 

Apollo smiled.

Solar energy surged through his skin, lighting up a few feet in front of him this time. The Creature, imitating human shape, sat on its knees, head in its hands. Its smoky perimeter flexed and popped in a way that would have been unnerving to someone who hadn’t already seen too many bizarre opponents in his life. Ready for this, Apollo ran at the Creature and bodyslammed it, taking it down.

The black gas thinned. 

Apollo pounded himself into the Creature with all of his might, punching and kicking and head butting. He heard himself yelling, but didn’t know what the words were. With every landed hit, wisps of smoke rose from the Creature. Apollo beat it and beat it until wisps were all that were left, dissipating into the bright fluorescent lights of the store. 

He surveyed the room, lifting a hand to his forehead to push his hair out of his eyes. The clothing rack lay destroyed near the door, just feet away from the broken window. Glass bedazzled the floor of the large shop and when he looked down at himself he had to laugh. He shirt had ripped enough to bare half of his chest and most of his abs. Typical.

“Apollo? Apollo? Apollo!”

“In here, Joe,” Apollo called. It took some effort for him to stand up, and he realized he must have depleted a significant amount of his solar charge. He also felt exhausted… but not in the same way he did nine months ago. “Want anything from Aeropostale?”

“Oho!” Joe said, running inside. His eyes were full of relief and he pounded Apollo on the arm the way straight men always insisted on doing. “Can’t say any of this is my style. You alright?”

“Never better,” Apollo said, as a Door opened up a couple of yards away. He grinned at it. He couldn’t stop grinning. He hadn’t truly grinned in so long. 

Midnighter stepped out, intensity etching across every detail of his body as he searched for the fight. When his eyes landed on Apollo, he straightened up in surprise. “Look who’s got his uniform on.” 

“Ha. Ha,” Apollo said and stretched out his body so that his abs flexed. “You were late so I took care of it.”

A beat of silence. Apollo felt Midnighter appreciate his stomach even through his apparent puzzlement. 

“Huh,” his boyfriend finally said, looking around. “Well, if you wanted discounts, you got ‘em now.”

 

***

Apollo picked at the dough he had rolled out onto the cutting board, trying to even out the corners. He leaned over it, pursing his lips, unsure if he had added too many raisins to the mix. No matter; it was too late now. 

He picked up the bowl of cinnamon-brown sugar filling he had made moments earlier and began sprinkling it.

“You know, I’m proud of you,” Midnighter said from his seat at the table, tapping Apollo’s tablet. He always pretended he did not know what Apollo was talking about whenever Apollo teased him about the Choose Your Own Adventure app game he had found downloaded. Considering how immersed he had seemed to be a second ago, Apollo was pretty sure that’s what he was playing with now. “But what brought you back all of a sudden?”

Apollo shrugged. “I finally stopped thinking only about myself, I suppose.”

Midnighter gave him a very serious look. “I’ve never known you to think only about yourself.”

“Oh come on,” Apollo said, a half-aborted laugh rushing from his throat. “Don’t pretend I haven’t been a disappointment. The moping, the putting everything on you, the—”

“Self-deprecation isn’t a good look on you, sweetheart,” Midnighter said, leading Apollo to roll his eyes and shut his mouth. 

For a second, anyway. But the situation turned out difficult to articulate. “I saw Joe’s face and I knew I couldn’t let him down again. And I felt like how you do, how all the other heroes do. That when something horrible happens, you must step in. There’s no other option.”

“Right.”

“I don’t think I ever stopped feeling that way,” he said. He wasn’t pleased with the distribution of the filling either. This entire process had turned out unexpectedly frustrating. Well, what was he going to do, give up? He rolled up the dough and packed it into the baking pan before popping it in the oven. “I just stop being paralyzed. For once.”

Midnighter raised his eyebrow. “You think that it’s going to be hard for you next time?” “Yeah. Possibly. I mean,” Neron flashed across Apollo’s mind and he rubbed his forehead, “it’s different now. It’s that I don’t think I can look at people’s faces in this city after abandoning them.”

“Come here,” Midnighter said, rising from his chair and holding his arms out. Apollo entered them, grateful. He needed to soak in the sun’s rays in order to live. He could walk through fire without a stitch of pain. But never, ever did he feel warmer than when this man held him. “I never minded picking up the slack, you know.”

“And I don’t think I ever properly thanked you for it,” Apollo said and rested his head on Midnighter’s shoulder. He took a deep breath of him.

“Why thank me? Can’t say I’ve been doing the greatest job. I know you’ve been feeling down and that Joe’s given you this guilt trip, but Opal City? It misses you, Apollo. It’s been waiting for you to come back.

“Not to put pressure on you,” came the quick follow up. “Sorry. I’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

Apollo chortled, pulling away and pushing his hair out of his eyes. He leaned down and planted a kiss on Midnighter’s forehead. He then moved to place another right on Midnighter’s lips. One filled with the kind of heat that usually led to a tryst in the bedroom.  “Only the most well-intended kind of pressure.”

“Whoops! Carry on, I’m not here,” said Joe behind him. Apollo turned to find him fishing in the cabinet for a plastic bag. He recognized that shifty-eyed look.

“What are you doing?” Apollo asked, following Joe out to the living-room. He frowned when he saw the new duffel bag bulging with his friend’s possessions. Apparently it was not large enough to fit everything Joe owned. The rest of Joe’s items lay scattered around the couch and Joe neatly folded a shirt that still had its tags before stuffing it into the plastic. “Hey, I told you that you could stay!”

“I don’t need to anymore,” Joe replied, straightening up. “I called my brother in North Carolina. He bought me a plane ticket for tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow?” Midnighter asked, joining them.

“He’s a good brother.” Joe shrugged and looked at his feet. “I never called him before because… A point of pride. But I’d rather inconvenience him than you.”

“You’re not an inconvenience,” Apollo said, crestfallen. He had already started getting adjusted to having the man around. 

Joe waved his hand, embarrassed. “Thanks, but it’s time for this geezer to get back up on his feet. And it’ll be easier with some familial support.”

Apollo and Midnighter looked at one another and then looked away. Familial support. Something very foreign to both of them. 

“Don’t worry,” Joe said. He barred his teeth in a smile. “You two’ll find some way to get along without me.”

***

“What’s this?” Joe asked as Apollo handed him another plastic bag. The three of them stood outside of Apollo’s apartment, one of Midnighter’s Doors open a few feet away to the airport. Joe peeked inside the bag to find the lump wrapped up in a towel.

“Be careful with it now, you don’t want it to fall apart,” Apollo said, and Joe took his time pulling out the loaf of bread. 

“Oho! Look at that!” He picked off a piece and popped it into his mouth. His eyes lit up. “Cinnamon raisin! Just like—”

“The bread you stole,” Midnighter said, laughing. “Apollo sometimes has a sick sense of humor.”

“It’s delicious,” Joe said to Apollo, who smiled and bent his head in thanks. Joe turned to Midnighter. “M, you need to marry this one.”

Apollo raised his eyebrows and avoided looking in Midnighter’s direction. The first time they came together, they went like two speeding comets toward deep commitment, and ended up breaking apart in orbit. They had agreed to take it slow this time.

Midnighter smiled and wrapped his arm around Apollo’s waist. “Working on it.”

Apollo shot him a quizzical look, which Midnighter seemed to intentionally ignore.

Joe dunked his head. “Got somethin’ in my eye.”

“We’ll miss you,” Apollo said, bending to place his hands on Joe’s shoulders and smiling at him with soft encouragement. “North Carolina’s lucky to get you. You’ll be back on your feet soon.”

“I’ll never be able to repay you,” Joe said, voice raspy. 

“Repay us by having a good life.”

They helped Joe collect all his bags and waved him off. Midnighter left Apollo’s side to check for the third time whether the Door went to the right location before shutting it down. Midnighter put his hands in the pockets of his jeans and turned to Apollo.

“What now?”

Apollo crooked his finger, inspired. “I have a good idea.”

***

“Ow,” Midnighter choked out as Apollo slammed him into the bed. Apollo had already stripped him naked and Midnighter stood at half-mast. Apollo felt his own prick perk up at the sight of his boyfriend’s splayed body, too ready to get inside.

“Sorry,” he said, voice so husky as he went to work on Midnighter’s neck, biting and sucking at the tender flesh. Midnighter wrapped his arms around Apollo’s head, pulling him closer.

“Sorry?” Midnighter echoed, and laughed wildly. He released his grip to run his hands down the length of Apollo’s back, ending at the hem of Apollo’s briefs. They removed those together before Apollo paralyzed Midnighter with a series of rapid strokes of his cock. Midnighter panted out, “Please never be sorry again.”

Apollo hadn’t realized that he had missed this as he bumped his cock up against Midnighter’s inner thigh. The burn of anticipation felt almost as good as the sensation running down his skin. Midnighter made an annoyed noise and sunk his teeth into Apollo’s shoulder, so hard it would have hurt a normal man. Apollo yanked him off and pinned his arms over his head as punishment. Even though he knew he couldn’t fend him off, Midnighter fought against his grip, mouth splitting into a near hysterical beam. His want bled into Apollo’s want, quickening his heartbeat and igniting sparks of solar energy up Apollo’s arms.

Apollo put his face close to Midnighter’s, an inch before a kiss. “How do you want it?” he asked, voice still low. “From behind? Face-to-face? You want to ride me?”

“Just take it from me,” Midnighter demanded, “anyway.”

That gave Apollo his cue to force his boyfriend against the wall, so tight that Midnighter almost couldn’t breathe, and shove two lubed up fingers inside of him. Midnighter clenched, his own fingers almost digging into the wall, and Apollo could spend hours relishing those moans. But, his cock throbbing to an almost painful level, he eventually could not resist any longer and plunged himself inside of the other man.

Their exclamations clashed together in some kind of dissonant chorus. Apollo entered an euphoric state as he pushed in and out, overcome. He grabbed Midnighter without losing his rhythm and forced him down to his side on the mattress. Midnighter was babbling incomprehensibly, interspersed with very clear “yes”es and “take it”s and cusses. Apollo had a difficult time trying not to leave bruises on his boyfriend’s skin as he fucked him harder. 

“Get up on your hands and knees,” Apollo said. 

“I don’t know if I can,” Midnighter answered, wiping sweat out of his eyes. 

“You’re going to have to,” Apollo said and licked up the side of Midnighter’s neck so that he could feel the other man’s shiver. He loved reducing this man to a quivering mass, pliable and desperate. He loved torturing the torturer. 

Shaking, Midnighter obeyed, getting into position. Apollo lined up behind him and pushed in once again. As he fucked Midnighter, he slid his hand down his taut stomach and reached his neglected cock. Midnighter very nearly yelped when Apollo started jerking him off in tune to his thrusts.

“I don’t know how you do this,” Midnighter gasped out. “I don’t know how you do this to me.”

Then, faster than Apollo had expected, Midnighter’s entire body tightened up and he came. This final enclosure of heat rocketed Apollo to his own climax and he had to release Midnighter for his own safety as he unleashed his load inside of him. 

Midnighter seemed unable to catch his breath for minutes afterward as they lay together in their dampened bedsheets. Apollo, head still buzzing, rubbed his back. Midnighter relaxed underneath his touch and finally oxygen shuddered into a steady pattern. Relief spread over Midnighter’s face and they snuggled into each other, sated. 

“That was incredible,” Midnighter said.

“Hadn’t done that in a long time,” Apollo said, an unease sparking and then dying inside of him. Not since before he died had they fucked quite like this. He said, voice teasing, “Maybe if you liked it so much, I should have sex with you less often.”

Midnighter gave him the dirtiest look he had possibly ever given anyone, an impressive feat considering the type of scum he had tortured and killed in the past.

“Or not,” Apollo said quickly, holding up his hands.

Just in time to let him off the hook, Midnighter’s comm link went off. Midnighter actually groaned, burrowing his head into Apollo’s shoulder. Apollo patted him on the head. 

“For once, I’d like to make my own schedule,” Midnighter said, shoving the top sheet back and making a move to climb out of bed. “Oh fuck, ow. Ow.”

Apollo laughed himself to near tears. “Did I just stop The Midnighter from wanting to go out and fight?”

He pulled his boyfriend back into bed. Midnighter protested, “No, Apollo, seriously, I have to—“

Apollo flipped his legs over the bed in a move he would rather proudly call acrobatic, and went to the closet. Months ago, it had become difficult to look at his costume like it was to look at a friend you had wronged in the eye. Now, he dug it out, determined as he held it out in front of him. 

Whole.

He put the skintight suit on.

He felt whole again.

Midnighter watched in awe as he turned around, fixing the material on his shoulder. 

“I’ll take care of it,” Apollo said with a smile.


End file.
